Poems on the topic: death

Poems on the topic “death” on Poets.by.

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Emily Dickinson

Water makes many Beds

Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep -- Its awful chamber open stands -- Its Curtains blandly sweep -- Abhorrent is the Rest In undulating Rooms Whose Amplitude no end invades -- Whose Axis never comes.

Emily Dickinson

Just so -- Jesus -- raps

Just so -- Jesus -- raps -- He -- doesn't weary -- Last -- at the Knocker -- And first -- at the Bell. Then -- on divinest tiptoe -- standing -- Might He but spy the lady's soul -- When He -- retires -- Chilled -- or weary -- It will be ample time for -- me -- Patient -- upon the steps -- until then -- Hears! I am knocking -- low at thee.

Emily Dickinson

How Human Nature dotes

How Human Nature dotes On what it can't detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct -- Prospective is the friend Reserved for us to know When Constancy is clarified Of Curiosity -- Of subjects that resist Redoubtablest is this Where go we -- Go we anywhere Creation after this?

Emily Dickinson

Pain has but one Acquaintance

Pain has but one Acquaintance And that is Death -- Each one unto the other Society enough. Pain is the Junior Party By just a Second's right -- Death tenderly assists Him And then absconds from Sight.

Emily Dickinson

Some, too fragile for winter winds

Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses -- Tenderly tucking them in from frost Before their feet are cold. Never the treasures in her nest The cautious grave exposes, Building where schoolboy dare not look, And sportsman is not bold. This covert have all the children Early aged, and often cold, Sparrow, unnoticed by the Father -- Lambs for whom time had not a fold.

Emily Dickinson

Snow beneath whose chilly softness

Snow beneath whose chilly softness Some that never lay Make their first Repose this Winter I admonish Thee Blanket Wealthier the Neighbor We so new bestow Than thine acclimated Creature Wilt Thou, Austere Snow?

Emily Dickinson

I know of people in the Grave

I know of people in the Grave Who would be very glad To know the news I know tonight If they the chance had had. 'Tis this expands the least event And swells the scantest deed -- My right to walk upon the Earth If they this moment had.

Emily Dickinson

The Veins of other Flowers

The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As "Branch," and "Jugular." We pass, and she abides. We conjugate Her Skill While She creates and federates Without a syllable.

Emily Dickinson

One Day is there of the Series

One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory. Neither Patriarch nor Pussy I dissect the Play Seems it to my Hooded thinking Reflex Holiday. Had there been no sharp Subtraction From the early Sum -- Not an Acre or a Caption Where was once a Room -- Not a Mention, whose small Pebble Wrinkled any Sea, Unto Such, were such Assembly 'Twere Thanksgiving Day.

Emily Dickinson

Death is a Dialogue between

Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. "Dissolve" says Death -- The Spirit "Sir I have another Trust" -- Death doubts it -- Argues from the Ground -- The Spirit turns away Just laying off for evidence An Overcoat of Clay.

Emily Dickinson

Said Death to Passion

Said Death to Passion "Give of thine an Acre unto me." Said Passion, through contracting Breaths "A Thousand Times Thee Nay." Bore Death from Passion All His East He -- sovereign as the Sun Resituated in the West And the Debate was done.

Emily Dickinson

Whatever it is -- she has tried it --

Whatever it is -- she has tried it -- Awful Father of Love -- Is not Ours the chastising -- Do not chastise the Dove -- Not for Ourselves, petition -- Nothing is left to pray -- When a subject is finished -- Words are handed away -- Only lest she be lonely In thy beautiful House Give her for her Transgression License to think of us --

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